Eight Days In September: The Removal of Thabo Mbeki

By Frank Chikane

Eight Days in September is a riveting, behind-the-scenes account of the turbulent eight-day period in September 2008 that led to the removal of Thabo Mbeki as president of South Africa.

As secretary of the cabinet and head (director-general) of the presidency at the time, Frank Chikane was directly responsible for managing the transition from Mbeki to Kgalema Motlanthe, and then on to Jacob Zuma, and was one of only a few who had a front-row seat to the unfolding drama.

Eight Days in September builds substantially on the so-called Chikane Files, a series of controversial articles Chikane published with Independent Newspapers in July 2010, to provide an insider’s perspective on this key period in South Africa’s recent history, and to explore Thabo Mbeki’s legacy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Picador Africa
• Release date: Mar 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781770102224

Frank Chikane

Frank Chikane is currently a Pastor of the Apostolic Faith Mission of SA (AFM) in Naledi, Soweto, the President of the AFM International, and is involved in business, including offering an advisory service to companies that do business on the African continent. He is the Visiting Adjunct Professor at the Graduate School of Public & Development Management (P&DM) at the University of the Witwatersrand and serves on a number of Boards, including Kagiso Trust, Sci-Bono Discovery Centre, Amarick Mining Resources (Pty) Ltd (a Zimbabwean based company), and Suntrace Africa (Pty) Ltd (an international solar energy company).

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PREFACE

No one could experience the removal of President Thabo Mbeki from office in September 2008 without stopping and reflecting on those events, especially if one was caught in the middle of it as secretary of cabinet and head (director-general) of the presidency.

It would be an understatement to say that those eight days in September (from the 19th to the 26th) were momentous days in the history of post-apartheid South Africa, which tested the foundations of our newborn democratic state to the limit with a great risk of destabilisation and reversal of the democratic gains made.

The challenge with this recollection is that it is risky in many respects, as it constitutes what I have rediscovered in the last three years or so to be in the category of ‘dangerous memory’. Firstly, for those who worked on the removal of Mbeki, the story is better forgotten and erased from the annals of history, unless it is told only from the perspective of those who engineered his removal.

In response to some of the articles that were published as extracts from this book, some retorted: ‘Eish! Why do you raise this matter at all?’ or ‘Why don’t you just let sleeping dogs lie?’ Some expressed deep anger that I wrote about this subject at all and saw this as an expression of disloyalty to the African National Congress (ANC) or the leadership of what is now called ‘the Polokwane Project’. The July 2010 statement of the National Executive Committee (NEC) of the ANC on this matter indicates the levels of anger relating to this recollection of the manner in which Mbeki was removed from office.

In my discussions with the officials of the ANC in November 2010, I made clear that this book is not about the ANC or individuals within the ANC. It is about my experiences in government, one of which was the removal of Mbeki from office. Accordingly, it could not be construed as an expression of disloyalty to the party. In any case, we also agreed that ANC members have the right to write about their experiences, as well as express opinions about matters which affect the people or the country.

For those who would want to present Mbeki as the embodiment of all the challenges the ANC faced at the time, any recollection of the positive legacy of Mbeki (even the African Renaissance vision and programme, which is regarded internationally as one of the best legacies Mbeki left for the continent and the world) has to be discounted as if it never happened, since it contradicts the storyline of him being the embodiment of all evil in the ANC and the country.

Secondly, any recollection of this momentous event is taken as support for Mbeki against the Polokwane Project. This had dire consequences, as I was either blocked from existing business interests, including opportunities for employment, or business was made to understand that I was a persona non grata and that they should have nothing to do with me. This also closed opportunities to serve on the boards of private companies. The consequences of defying this injunction were very clear and business ensured that they did nothing that would suggest they had any relationship with me. In Setswana one would say that they were scared of being splashed with madi a kgofa (‘the blood of a bug’) as it is bashed and killed.

Thirdly, for Mbeki’s family and friends this story was just too early to recount, as the deep wounds it had inflicted were still too fresh to be opened again. They needed time to heal.

The reality, though, is that the story is so profound that the history of this country cannot be told without referring to it. Unfortunately, the story as presented by the media and the actors of the day is woefully incomplete and some aspects clearly false. Some publications I have read are more about ‘the bashing of Mbeki’ or attitudes or opinions against him, rather than the actual story. Many commentators seem to think that Mbeki-bashing is what audiences would want and they do this repeatedly and effectively. But this only works with those who are comforted by bashing him. The silent majority might just surprise us.

Those of us whom history destined to be caught in the storm – dangerous and risky as it became – unfortunately have a responsibility to record the story while it is fresh in our minds lest it fades and is lost to posterity, pleasing those who want these events to remain untold.

An initial commitment by the presidency to assist me with whatever I needed in writing this book was regrettably withdrawn following the publication of the first set of articles in July 2010, although it took six months before I was informed about this decision. From then I had to rely on my own devices, without the references and information that would have made my task easier.

The articles in Independent Newspapers prior to the publication of this book were surprising to some, especially those who are in the book business. Indeed, this was out of the ordinary. My view has always been that there are a negligible number of people who buy and read books. The masses, for whom this book is written, do not. It is for this reason that I agreed with Independent Newspapers to release summaries of sections of this book before publication. I accept that there are other publications which could have reached some of the grassroots better, but their overall reach was too limited.

The summaries were about a quarter of some chapters and the responses were very useful in enriching the book in a way that otherwise would never have been achieved. I wish to express my appreciation to all those who gave me feedback by writing or calling, those I met in the streets of the cities, towns, townships, villages and rural areas of this country, in airports and in the air, at public events including church, and from neighbouring countries and the wider world. Nangonso. Le ka moso (‘I hope you do the same in future’).

For now I leave the text in the hands of the readers.

Frank Chikane

November 2011

INTRODUCTION

The Challenges of Telling this Story

Many people I met who have read the summary articles of sections of this book said to me that I must be ‘very brave’ to write about the removal of Thabo Mbeki, because of the risks it entails. In response, I have often said that it is not a matter of being brave but an unavoidable burden of responsibility. I might have fears about the implications of writing this story – the fears are real and the consequences dire – but my conscience never walks away just as it never walked away during our struggle for liberation. I wish it could, but it does not. It is always there, making the point that I have a responsibility that no one but me can now discharge.

My disposition towards taking my faith in God seriously does not help in this regard. Instead, it compelled me to do what all of us would really want to avoid – take a risk that could have an enormous impact on one’s life, career and future. My conscience gave me no option but to take responsibility for this task regardless of the consequences, because this is about God’s people, the people of this country, the continent and the world.

The reality is that I happen to be among the few who had the privilege to offer services to the people during the presidencies of Nelson Mandela, Thabo Mbeki, Kgalema Motlanthe and Jacob Zuma over a period of thirteen and a half years, between 1995 and 2009. With the exception of Professor Jakes Gerwel, who was the head of President Mandela’s office between 1994 and 1999, I happen to be the only one who was both the head of the presidency (the president and the deputy president’s offices together) and the secretary of cabinet. When the National Security Council (NSC) was established in 2000, I became its secretary and chairperson of the NSC Director-General’s (DG’s) committee.

I had the privilege also of seeing government through multiple windows over this period, as I was chair of the Forum of South African Directors-General (FOSAD) and the FOSAD MANCO (its management committee) where all programmes of government were discussed and strategies developed. Another responsibility was to assist the president in situations where there was tension between an executing authority (minister) and a head of department (director-general), especially where this impacted on the department’s delivery of services.

Aside from my service in government, I also served as a member of the National Executive Committee (NEC) of the African National Congress (ANC) for ten of these thirteen and a half years (between 1997 and 2007), which was one of the most difficult periods (in my view) in the existence of the ANC. This gave me the opportunity and advantage of seeing the unfolding drama from the perspective of the party as well as that of government. My NEC role was less conspicuous, since the Public Service Act limited my participation and public expression.

One could say that I have seen it all from my vantage point at the apex of government and within the leadership of the ANC. I have seen the dark clouds gathering, leading to the removal of Mbeki from office during the last five years of his service as both the president of the country and of the ANC.

I was in the president’s office when dubious intelligence reports accused Mathews Phosa, Cyril Ramaphosa and Tokyo Sexwale of plotting to take over the presidency. I was there when circumstances as yet unclear led to the then deputy president Zuma making a public statement that he was neither campaigning for, nor interested in becoming, president.

I was the director-general in the presidency when Mbeki and Zuma were president and deputy president of the country and of the ANC respectively, from 1999 to 2005, making them my responsibility.

I was in the presidency when the Arms Procurement Programme was developed, starting with a White Paper in parliament, followed by decisions of cabinet. The programme was executed and, as can be expected, the huge sums of money involved attracted corrupt elements internationally, nationally and within and outside government and the ruling party. I was there when some of our comrades were charged with corruption, fraud or related offences, and these were painful experiences for the family that is the ANC.

Among the most challenging of these were the charges against Schabir Shaik, which implicated the then deputy president of the country, Jacob Zuma. I was in the presidency when President Mbeki removed his close comrade and colleague of many years, Zuma, from his position as deputy president of the country at the conclusion of Shaik’s trial. Shaik had been found guilty and the verdict implicated the deputy president. The pain of this surgery, the removal of Zuma, was felt to be unbearable within the ANC. It went deep into the heart of the party. All who were disgruntled for any reason sought an opportunity to express their views in support of Zuma.

I painfully watched as the drama about charges against Zuma unfolded, leading to an unprecedented and emotional campaign in his support, taking the form of a vicious anti-Mbeki crusade. The offensive deteriorated to a level where some ANC members publicly burned ANC T-shirts with Mbeki’s face on them, in the presence of fellow leaders of the movement. Many of those involved believed that Mbeki was either responsible for the charges against Zuma or that he had not done what he was expected to do: to cause the prosecution authority to withdraw the charges or stop the trial.

I witnessed the painful and rapid pace of divisions that occurred from top to bottom within the ANC. I personally experienced the force of the storm that rattled the unity of the NEC and spilled into its membership.

To intensify this division and conflict, devious and unscrupulous intelligence projects were devised to deepen the crisis within the ANC, to break it from inside. Among these were the fake e-mails about ANC leaders and the so-called Browse Mole document, which was produced by some elements of the Directorate of Special Operations (DSO) within the National Directorate of Public Prosecution (NDPP). All these projects shared two key elements: the collaboration of the worst of the old and the new intelligence operatives, and the hand of foreign intelligence elements.

Surprisingly, when information about the involvement of these elements surfaced, the people’s revolutionary movement appeared unconcerned, nor did anyone within the party express alarm. Those troubled by this development simply went underground for fear of victimisation or being thrown out of the party. The reality is that these elements could corrupt our intelligence services to an extent that foreign entities or their agents or national proxies could take over government. If this happened, all that our people had struggled for and made costly sacrifices for would have been in vain.

As we drove to Polokwane, those who are honest will testify that we did so knowing that there were two ANCs at war with each other heading to that city. Even during our breakfast in Polokwane on the day the conference started, we had difficult discussions amongst the leadership at the hotel where we were being accommodated. We knew that there was going to be a bitter fight to the end and that the winners would take all the spoils or entrench a spoils culture.

Indeed, Polokwane led to radical changes in government, as if a hostile opposition political party had taken over, and the purging of comrades who had made enormous sacrifices to achieve our liberation became an acceptable practice. Even innocent VIP Protection Unit members were victimised, not because they were disloyal to the state, but simply because those who returned from Polokwane seemed not to trust anyone who had served during Mbeki’s time.

From that moment on, everyone knew that the ANC and the country would never be the same again. The events of the past four years or so testify to this.

I have also seen the frightening spectre of factions within the party battling to control or corrupt elements of the intelligence services to ensure that they served their party factions or individuals, rather than the security interests of the state and people of South Africa. At this point, I feared for the future of the country that many of our comrades had suffered for, were tortured for, were put in detention for, were imprisoned for, were exiled for, and even laid down their lives to free the country from the brutal forces of apartheid and racism.

It was at this stage that I thought of Albert Luthuli, Oliver Tambo, Govan Mbeki, Nelson Mandela, Joe Slovo, Chris Hani, Lillian Ngoyi, Beyers Naudé, Albertina Sisulu, Solomon Mahlangu, Neil Aggett, Ernest Dipale, and many others who made great sacrifices for the struggle and even died for it. One could not traverse this gallant history of the people’s struggle and not shed tears at having to watch an unfolding rot that had the potential of destroying the organisation and the future of the country.

As I write this story, I fear for the future of the country no less than I did then. The apparently united front of the Polokwane Project is unravelling, threatening the stability of South Africa and its future. The questions we have to ask are, where are we going and where we are likely to end up?

The challenge is that these questions cannot be answered intelligently without knowledge of why we are where we are, in the first place. The story I have no choice but to tell is part of an important reflection that our people must engage in, without fear of victimisation or loss of life. My experience following the publication of the articles related to this book shows that indeed what I am writing about is what has been called ‘dangerous memories’ that some don’t want to hear about. Dangerous memories naturally attract threatening responses that go beyond the necessary discourse we need to engage in as a people, a nation.

Another challenge is that many of the players who could contribute to make this story as balanced and complete as possible are either not yet ready to talk about it, or fear for their lives and their future. Many have said to me that this is not just risky but it is also career limiting, as the doors of opportunity could be closed to them both in the public and the private sectors. In some cases, names of people who were involved have been left out to save them from the fire that might be directed at them. I have tried my best to ensure that this book does not become a lightning conductor that could imperil some comrades.

The book is thus about my knowledge of the events as I experienced and understood them. It is my account during a momentous time in our history. Indeed, my perspective may differ from that of others who may have been involved or affected by these events, depending on our vantage points and our a priori views. Fortunately, in the real world, no one would expect us to agree in all respects as we are mere humans.

While I am committed to recounting the story as accurately and objectively as possible, there is a challenge in that none of the players, including myself, participated in all the events and meetings relating to the crisis. Those who were at ANC headquarters in Luthuli House were not necessarily the same people who were at the Union Buildings; those who were in Forest Town, at the residence of ANC President Jacob Zuma, were not the same as those at the presidential residence, Mahlamba Ndlopfu; and those who were at Esselen Park in Pretoria, where the ANC’s NEC was meeting, were not the same people as those who were in Cape Town.

Some held their own meetings: some secret, others open; some legitimate, others downright factional but dignified as ‘lobbies’. Lobbies do indeed lobby for particular positions, to serve specific interests. At one stage there was even talk about a powerful ‘extra-organisational’ cabal that made decisions that were imposed on the organisation. Many resented this development but could not do much about it given the climate of the time and the heavyweights involved. In a crisis of such magnitude, cabals and secret groups thrive and assume a semi-official status. And, because they are not fully official, their funding also becomes cabal-like, with the risk that those with more resources could assume control of the cabal and thence the party. The result was that when someone spoke to you, you had to work out whether or not he or she represented the official position of the organisation or that of a faction or cabal.

In short, under such complex circumstances, no one can claim to know everything that happened. Only God, who is omnipresent and omniscient, can know. My faith is helpful in this regard as I believe that God indeed does know what happened and who was involved, however clandestine the circumstances.

It would be helpful if everyone remembered and took heed of the scriptural saying that ‘there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open’. The passage ends with the advice that ‘those who have ears to hear let them hear’. Another lesson to be learnt from the last year or so is ‘do not do anything that you would not want anyone to remember’ as it may be made public.

Unfortunately, we humans (Homo sapiens), who are supposed to be sensible or have some level of wisdom (sapire, ‘be wise or sensible’), are able only to know about those events we were involved in. For the rest we depend on reports, which are often inaccurate or merely an interpretation of what happened.

So it was, during those September days, that false information was fed deliberately into the discourse to mislead or produce a particular outcome and many relied on rumours and distorted information obtained through the grapevine. Until all that is hidden is revealed, including conspiracies hatched in secret places during secret meetings, we must live with our incomplete knowledge.

Despite this challenge, I am determined to present these events as accurately as possible. Although my vantage point is bound to colour some of my perspectives, I will present the facts as accurately as I can, while also analysing and interpreting them in order to make sense of them.

In doing so, I unfortunately cannot make use of classified information, as it is governed by laws for which I have total respect. Public servants are required in terms of the Minimum Information Security System (MISS) document and other relevant secrecy laws to protect the integrity of all classified information, from ‘restricted’ to ‘confidential’, to ‘secret’ and ‘top secret’, until it is declassified. There is a further requirement, in terms of tradition within the presidency, to treat all discussions with the president as privileged, disclosing nothing without the president’s consent.

In my case, as secretary of the cabinet, chairperson of the NSC committee of security-related officials, and secretary of the executive level of the NSC, the bar was raised even higher. In these fora one operates strictly at a ‘top secret’ level – what, in Afrikaans, is called streng geheim. At this level, some of the information will never be declassified during our lifetime. In most instances, this has to do with the security of the state or with a risk to people’s lives, especially those of informants or agents.

This obviously limits the public’s understanding of those events, specifically the degree to which this country’s peace was threatened. Some things will have to remain unknown and in certain cases a mystery to many. We have to live with the reality that there are aspects of what happened that will never be properly understood.

Although a handful of people know about one aspect or another of this classified world of information, none of them can know every aspect of it. Even classified intelligence information fed into the system and analysed can be falsified to produce a particular outcome, or to support a specific cause or interest.

Some may not believe that even after leaving government I am still bound by the laws and regulations that protect classified and confidential information. In fact, there are some things I will be unable to discuss unless I live to the age of 90, by which time they may well be declassified. As a result, some things may never be said at all.

I believe it is important to deal with this limiting regulatory framework to give the public a better perspective of the scope of what can and cannot be said and why.

It is in the nature of the state that those who lead it know more than ordinary citizens do. Governments are custodians of the personal details of individuals, as well as of information about government structures, institutions, programmes, projects, budgets, and so on. With this information at their disposal and given their access to intelligence information, states naturally know more both at national and international levels. Some of this information is available to the public and some of it is used for public or private purposes. Some is confidential and cannot be disclosed to third parties who have no right of access to it. In such cases, confidentiality builds trust and opens the doors to the sharing of more confidential information.

Each state or government possesses information that is classified and to maintain the integrity of this system public servants who deal with such sensitive information are vetted for particular levels of secrecy. Your classification determines the level of sensitive information to which you can have access.

In South Africa, a MISS document regulates the way in which sensitive information is managed by public servants. In terms of this document, the director-general or head of a department or entity of government is responsible for the effective management of security of information. A head of department is required to report any violation of the rules and regulations contained in the MISS document, as well as to take the necessary steps to remedy the situation.

Public office bearers take an oath of office and are bound by it. Sections